


of potstickers and preferences

by rudderless in an ocean of stars (indelibly_ellie)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, and so are you, but yall already knew this, gay af, have fun, honestly i needed a fix-it fic after that episode, im supercorp trash, lots of gayness, pure fluff, smol bean Lena FTW, someone hold me, they should have danced, why didn't they dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8543383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelibly_ellie/pseuds/rudderless%20in%20an%20ocean%20of%20stars
Summary: Because really, who serves potstickers at a gala?Shameless fluff. Fix-it fic (sort of) to make up for the lack of Kara/Lena interactions at the gala.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHH I HAVEN'T POSTED IN A WEEK AND I APOLOGIZE *shoves cookies towards you* HERE HAVE THIS STORY TO ENJOY WITH YOUR COOKIES.

Kara is seven episodes deep into the first season of Stranger Things when someone knocks on her door. Loudly.

 

Kara survives the surprise, though it does cause her life to flash before her eyes as she seriously contemplates whether or not her Kryptonian powers would even _work_ in the Down Under. The spoon of ice cream clutched in her hands does not.

 

She cheats, using a burst of super speed to discard the warped utensil and safely tuck her pint of creamy goodness back into her freezer before heading towards the door. She doesn't bother using her powers to see who her guest is. In hindsight, taking the time to peer over the frames of her glasses to see who was standing behind the door would have been a good idea.

 

No, a _great_ idea.

 

Because her mystery midnight guest has dark hair, green eyes, and a stare that makes Kara wish she hadn't changed into her ultra-comfy pajamas for a session of couch therapy with Netflix, her go-to therapist.

 

Lena Luthor is, perhaps, the last person Kara expected to show up to her house in the dead of night to interrupt her mini-marathon.

 

Alex, maybe. Winn, possibly. But _Lena_?

 

Kara barely recovers from her shock in time to usher the other woman into her apartment, only half-listening to Lena's words until the very end of the sentence and-

 

"-couldn't let the food go to waste, so I figured I'd bring some over and maybe _askifyouwantedtohavedinnerwithme_?"

 

Kara swallows. Hard. Lena Luthor. _Here_. At her apartment. Holding a bag that smelled suspiciously like potstickers. Asking her to dinner. In a figure-hugging dress that clings to the curves that Kara would love to trace with her tongue and- oh, _Rao_ , she _must_ be dreaming.

 

And in her TARDIS pajamas, Kara fidgets.

 

Lena's face falls, apparently taking the Kryptonian's hesitation for rejection, and begins to stumble back towards the door. "I'm sorry, I should have realized- it's the middle of the night, and-"

 

"Lena." The sound of her name freezes her in place mere inches away from the door. She looks up to see cerulean eyes sparkling with mirth. "I'd love to."

 

Lena smiles.

 

* * *

 

_Where does she put all that food?_ Thirty minutes and a downright ridiculous amount of potstickers later, Kara's already moved onto one of the several tubs of Ben  & Jerry's she's got squirreled away inside her freezer. With gusto.

 

Lena's kicked off her heels at this point, curled up on the opposite side of the couch from Kara, trying hard to keep her expression neutral as she watches the other woman make her way through yet another tub of Chocolate Therapy. Honestly, after watching Kara eat, Lena feels like she might need _actual_ therapy. The kind of metabolism that the other woman must have makes the scientist in her narrow her eyes. _How_ -

 

The sound of Kara's voice drags her from her thoughts. "- and I was really surprised to see potstickers tonight. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love potstickers, but they aren't exactly formal food, y'know?"

 

The blush that begins to spread across her cheeks has Lena contemplating whether or not it would be appropriate to bury her face in Kara's couch despite the makeup that would surely smear across its plush surface. "Lena? What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing, I, uh, just- I had them served for you." Lena resists the urge to bury her face in her hands, settling for a compromise in the form of the return of the anxious lip bite she thought she'd long since overcome before meeting _Kara_.

 

Now it's Kara's turn to blush. _Score one for the truth_ , Lena thinks as she watches Kara's face redden. "Me? But... _Why_?"

 

"You're a friend, Kara. You might even be my only friend. I wanted to make you happy." Lena's pretty damn sure that spontaneous human combustion is impossible, but if her cheeks get even redder, that theory will soon be put to the test.

 

Across the couch, the Kryptonian struggles to keep from crushing the pint of ice cream clutched in her hands. Lena's eyes are _warm_ and and _bright_ and _kryptonite_ -

 

Every rational thought escapes her brain but the sole thought of stopping the stammering apologies spilling out of the other woman's mouth and in a heartbeat, she's across the couch covering Lena's lips with her own.

 

Kara's no blushing virgin- she's kissed before- but this is different. With James- with _boys_ \- there were rules, there were roles. Kara's spent her whole life trying to be soft where they were firm, giving as they took, pliant as they led, and so very careful not to _break_ them- their feelings, their bodies, their overly fragile sense of masculinity. 

 

Kara Danvers is all soft edges and argyle sweaters. But Kara zor-El is made is steel, forged in the aftershock of watching an entire world- _her entire world_ \- explode and spending the next twenty-four years trapped in a hollow, aching empty place where her thoughts were filled with nothing but _fire_ and _pain_ and _ruin_.

 

Kara has never liked having to _be_ soft. Until now.

 

It doesn't take her long to decide that she prefers _this_ \- the feel of silky flesh beneath her fingers, the sound of the quiet sighs she elicits from the other woman, the electricity that seems to crackle between them with every touch, every kiss, every hitch of breath.

 

Lacquered nails scrape across skin that won't _break_ , and Kara's glad of her heightened senses for what must be the first time in her life.

 

Lena  _moans_ , tilting her head back to expose the milky column of her throat as Kara traces her tongue across the other woman's collarbone. Kara _drowns_ in the sight, fingers aching to pick up a brush and paint the slope of her neck with the same reverence as she's painted the spires and skies of Krypton.

 

A wicked smile plays on the edges of Kara's mouth as she slowly makes her way back up to Lena's lips, lingering just long enough on her pulse point to feel it _jump_ as she nips at the delicate flesh beneath her teeth as the press of Lena's nails against her skin becomes hard, insistent, _demanding_.

 

Oh yes, she prefers _this_ indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, because even when writing fluff, mild introspection has to sneak in there somewhere.
> 
> Yes, I HAD to include a mention of the Lip Bite™.
> 
> Too much? 
> 
> You know the drill.
> 
> Leave a review, house a displaced alien from a dead planet.


End file.
